


it comes and goes

by Verocity



Category: 2PM (Band)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 22:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8030806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verocity/pseuds/Verocity
Summary: when you want it all, you have to be ready to get nothing, too.





	it comes and goes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [such a cold, cold night](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/229231) by mo_chan_tf. 



> for Mow, whose loyalty to 2PM is inspiring

It's not raining on the drive downtown, but Junho pays enough attention to weather forecasts to know that rain is a possibility.

Not that he's going to be standing around in open space. At most there's a short walk between the guest parking and the main entrance. Maybe five steps, not even a dozen. There'd never been a need to count them - they were just means to overcome space, a lead up to be endured, a last few minutes before having fun.

He brought his jacket anyway.

Better to be safe than sorry. Better to be prepared for any harebrained schemes that could hatch in the middle of the night.

You can never know, with Taecyeon.

 

 

 

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Junho says as soon as the door opens.

"Apart from a pleasant night moping around and feeling lonely, not a thing." Taecyeon steps aside to let him in. "I hope you brought wine."

"It's like you don't know me at all," Junho teases, raising the fancy paper bag in his hand. Of course he brought wine. He'd bring anything if it meant lowering Taecyeon's inhibitions, which is a sleazy thing to acknowledge but Junho isn't necessarily thinking about getting into Taecyeon's pants. He doesn't need alcohol for that, just some choice words and a sultry glare or two, and Taecyeon never needs much convincing to put out anyway.

No, Junho needs wine for something else.

Taecyeon snorts. "Amendment: I hope you brought _good_ wine." He takes Junho's jacket and tosses it on the couch.

"I'm offended that you think I'd buy anything cheap for our date." Junho puts the bag down on the coffee table. Reconsiders. Acknowledges that it would go better _with_ dinner instead of after it. Reconsiders again. Remembers that apart from feeling good, Junho's also after something else.

The dinner table has already been set. Food's waiting. Junho can smell the shrimp carbonara from where he's standing.

"Didn't say anything about cheap," Taecyeon says, palms up, playfully taunting. "I remember you keep equating quality with expensiveness. Have you learned your lesson?"

Junho rolls his eyes and heads to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. "Easily. I just look at you and I know I need to learn from my mistakes."

"Hey!"

 

 

 

Dinner is delicious. The chicken is tender, the pasta is perfectly creamy, the salad is so fresh that Junho could practically feel himself being renewed by the earth.

All signs point to Taecyeon having ordered out. The candle at the center of the table was a nice touch but a dead giveaway. Nobody can ever accuse Taecyeon of not trying, even if sometimes he tries too hard.

"Not that I don't appreciate tonight," Junho says after his last fork of greens, "but this doesn't count. You promised me a home-cooked meal."

Taecyeon quirks an eyebrow at him. "Do you really want food poisoning that much?"

"It would only be food poisoning if you still haven't learned to cook," Junho answers patiently. There's effort in keeping his voice light. "Didn't you say you wanted to learn that skill?"

"I did," Taecyon admits. It hasn't been that long since they had that conversation. "Fuck, Junho, who has the time to learn how to cook? I just promised dinner. And you know this tastes better than anything I can come up with."

Junho grins, split between humor and sincerity. "That's true. I was just teasing."

Taecyeon grins too, but it's uncertain at the edges.

Junho backs off. "Want to get the wine?"

"Why didn't you serve it alongside dinner?"

"I figured it wasn't the right wine for tonight's courses."

Taecyeon taps his fingers on the table. "You're fibbing, but alright. I'll play along."

 

 

 

There's a pen and a notepad on the coffee table.

Junho considers it for all of one minute before writing his apartment's passcode down. Maybe he can leave it here and wait to see what will happen. Or is that being too subtle?

Should he draw a heart around the numbers? Or is that being too cheesy? Too direct? Something.

"Found them." Taecyeon returns from the kitchen with a corkscrew and a couple of wine glasses in his hands. Junho tears the top sheet off the notepad and crumples it in his fist. "Writing me a love note, huh?"

"I always suspected you never grew out of high school."

Taecyeon shudders. "Most awkward phase of my life. Do not remind me."

Junho uncorks the wine bottle and pours some into their glasses. "Just let the wine breathe for a while. Oxidize, or something."

"Should I get the blender?"

Junho scowls. "You are not putting his expensive bottle of wine through the blender."

Taecyeon laughs and leans back against the couch. "I missed you."

"It's not like we don't see each other nearly everyday at the studios," Junho reminds him. And it's true: their hours don't strictly overlap but by some miracle of planning they manage to scrounge up the weird ten minutes or so to glance at each other across conference rooms or hallways. Or, one time, through the glass of a recording studio when Junho's rehearsing a teaser and Taecyeon dropped by supposedly to have a chat with the sound engineer but kept his eyes on Junho the whole time.

( _Way too much effort for someone who's not trying to prove anything,_ someone's voice echoes in Junho's head. Wooyoung's? It sounds bitter, so maybe.)

"Because stolen moments where can't even talk to each other is the same as having dinner by ourselves, you're right." Taecyeon exhales loudly and sips his wine, ignoring Junho's hiss that it's not ready yet. Taecyeon doesn't turn away from him, not exactly - but there's distance, even just slightly, and that's against everything Junho has in mind.

Junho lays a hand on Taecyeon's knee and squeezes gently. Reassuringly. "I was joking. Tonight is infinitely better. Just the two of us, with dinner and this very expensive bottle of wine that I wanted to share with you the moment I saw it."

It doesn't take much to draw Taecyeon back. "Your tour's coming up."

Junho rolls his eyes. "You know how it is." He'd been trying not to recall it. Trying to put all the stress out of his mind. But of course Taecyeon doesn't see it that way; to him, it's a celebration, a happy turn of conversation because a solo tour isn't something that plays to his strengths.

Taecyeon, at heart, isn't a performer. An idol, sure, albeit an old one now. A veteran. But he's not in the same league as Junho. As Wooyoung. As Minjun.

Taecyeon, they knew long ago, would eventually outgrow the stage and learn to conquer other kingdoms. Whereas if you take away music and singing and dancing and the stage, take away the loving audiences and the unforgiving rehearsals and the mind-numbing exhaustion of recording albums and videos - take all of that away and you'll be left with a hollow shell that only superficially resembles Junho.

It's frightening, Junho thinks, how dependent he is, how vulnerable. And how much Taecyeon is not.

How Taecyeon's nebulous future is so much more alluring at this point in their lives, while Junho can't even imagine being alone anymore.

"Remember what I asked you?" Junho asks, aiming for nonchalance but hitting nervous wreck all too easily. He hasn't even had a sip of his wine. "Back in that teashop in Fukuoka?"

Taecyeon clams up instantly. "Junho, not tonight. Please?"

"Then when?" Junho retorts. His hands are on his knees, balled into fists to stop himself from slamming them against the coffee table. "Are we ever going to talk about this? Or are we going to keep pushing it later and later until we never talk about it at all?"

"I just said not tonight, what the fuck-" Taecyeon interrupts himself to breathe, an attempt to calm down that grows less and less successful over time. "Junho. We've talked about this and my answer hasn't changed. I'm not ready."

"And I'm not here to play games," Junho says back.

" _This isn't a game to me,_ " Taecyeon retorts, voice raised and neck muscles tensed. "This is the most serious I've ever been with _anyone_ , but that doesn't mean I'm ready to move in with you!"

Those words aren't new. Junho has heard them four times by now: in his apartment just when he got it, in a green room in KBS while waiting down the high of a solo stage and Taecyeon showed up to support him, in Fukuoka more recently during a ( _honeymoon_ , Nichkhun's voice, teasingly) leisure trip, and now tonight on Taecyeon's couch. And no, he still doesn't understand.

"I just don't get-" Junho starts off again, as calmly as he can push himself to be "-why not? We're happy together. We both know that. We both want this to last. We both want this to be real. So why not?"

"This _is_ real," Taecyeon says. "But I can't always give you what you want if it compromises what I think is good for me. And I'm not saying no! I'm not saying never. I'm just asking you to wait. Just a bit. To give me time because I have shit to work through and I don't want to mess you up with the same things that are messing me up."

Yeah, they've talked about this, too. The same old song and dance. The same unanswered questions, or maybe Junho just doesn't find the answers satisfying at all. "You know I'm willing to help you through-"

"Junho. Please. Let it go."

"Alright." A brief pause. He reaches for his jacket and- there's a crumpled ball of paper in his hands. He remembers what it is, stuffs it in his jacket's pocket and gets on his feet quickly.

"Junho." Taecyeon reaches for him. He's startled. Alarmed. "What are you doing?"

"Me?" Junho asks, fake calm dripping from his voice as much as he's having trouble breathing. "I'm letting it go." He yanks his arm from Taecyeon's grip and heads for the door.

"You said this wasn't a game," Taecyeon calls after him, also on his feet now. "So why are you giving up now?"

Junho spins on his heel and throws his jacket at Taecyeon's face, the only thing in his hands before he reaches for his pockets. But he reins himself back enough before he actually throws his phone. "I'm not the one who's playing around," he snaps, and vindictively relishes the flash of hurt in Taecyeon's eyes.

"Junho, come on-"

"What for?" Junho yanks the door open. "There's nothing to talk about. Not anymore."

And if anything good came out of tonight, it's that the walk back to Junho's car was still dry, that it didn't rain at all.


End file.
